


Dancing with the Mages

by tententen



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-15 01:31:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3433076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tententen/pseuds/tententen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A birthday gift for a friend, and complete nonsense. I haven't played da2, so forgive me if people are out of character.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dancing with the Mages

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chylersilva](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chylersilva/gifts).



“I think you could use some glitter,” the makeup artist mused, leaning sideways as she peered at Fenris’ impassive expression. It hadn’t changed in the two hours of being covered in sequins and fitted in pants that were too snug in all the wrong areas. People kept touching his hair, coming it and fluffing it and grooming him so he looked just right. The only thing that calmed him was imagining his bare chest dripping with the blood of the man who had smothered him in baby oil.  “It’ll help you pop.”

“If you try to put glitter on me,” his eyes slid from a fixed point on the center of the mirror in front of him to bore into the makeup artist. “I’ll kill you.”

“Okay!” She laughed immediately, a nervous sound bubbling out of her as she dropped the brush she’d been holding into her smock and clasped her hands together. Fenris raised his chin as she cleared her throat and turned from him, calling to one of the producers “I think he’s done!” she turned back to him, her expression wavering between eagerness and worry. “Break a leg.”

Fenris got out of his seat, his lip curling after the makeup artist as she hurried away. “I’ll break your leg…”

He didn’t sign up for this. He didn’t care about dancing, or winning the useless golden idol that was kept in a glass case at the base of the stage. All he wanted was to go back to killing slavers, and not being forced to wear makeup. Once he found out who was responsible, they’d pay.

“Don’t you look handsome?”

His ears twitched at the familiar voice, his eyes narrowing as he turned to face the unapologetic smirk on Hawke’s face. The wider it got, the more his ears burned. “It was you.”

“Varric, actually.” She blew on her fingernails as she sauntered forward, smirking as she circled him like a predator drenched in sequins. “Ready to dance, partner?”

“No,” Fenris shifted away from her. “And you can’t make me.”

“Shame. Does that mean I win by default?”

Fenris whipped around to glare at Anders, the mage’s puffed chest and smug demeanor drawing a wave of anger within him. Aaliya hissed softly, stepping between them. “We settle this on the dance floor.”

“See you there,” Anders grinned, whipping his velvet cape as he turned to follow the producer to the set. Fenris scowled after him before turning back to Aaliya where she stood, attention elsewhere. His features contorted as he watched her adjust her bedazzled top.

“Is this a joke?”

“Huh?” Aaliya glanced up from her chest, pouting as a stray pair of hands messed with her hair.

“We need to _win_ , Hawke. We need more glitter.”


End file.
